


Country Roads, Take Me Home...

by MissC3PO



Category: Siren Head
Genre: Colorado, Explicit Language, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissC3PO/pseuds/MissC3PO
Summary: Matthew Herbert hasn't had the best life. Being a male prostitute in Colorado isn't the most glamorous job. But one night while being chased by some gang members he stole money from, he heard him.Siren Head
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. I Should Stop Playing Stupid Video Games

I never knew how I met him. I remember a forest, dark and misty. The smell of a storm coming. The gunshots. The blood coursing from my arm, the feel of a bullet stuck in my bone. Rain. Lots of rain. A thunderclap. A gunshot.

A siren.

It was like a distorted tornado siren, but I’ve only heard tornado sirens in movies, so I’m not one to talk. But all I knew was that I had to keep running. They were behind me, and gaining. I was losing too much blood, but I had to ignore that. Just keep running. Run.

The siren became louder, and my pursuers stopped the chase. I was then alone. 

Darkness. 

* * *

Matthew. That’s my name. Matthew Herbert. The few friends I have call me Matt. Others call me dumbass, or just scream “you!” when they see me. I guess it’s not exactly the greatest job being a male prostitute. Especially one who rips people off and steals. 

Well, that’s why I’m here. 

Some gang leader’s goonies tracked me to my cabin in Sawpit. I thought they were too stupid to follow me, or even try to. Forest areas are not for the Denver city boys who live off of Gucci, shop at Parks Meadows Mall, and are Columbine High School graduates. Or dropouts.

Sawpit is a pretty foresty little town, and I started living up here once I dropped out of Arapahoe Community College. Full of hoes. Fits the name. I was trying to get into agriculture like my dads, but they’re dead and I have no money or motivation. So I moved up to my great great grandfather’s old cabin in the rugged forests of Sawpit. It’s better than nothing. Then I went around town and found an old drag queen, who suggested I start small as a prostitute. It didn’t sound that great, but it got me money. And I was really good. I even went down from the mountains to Denver, Littleton, Aurora, and Colorado Springs for some jobs. I then messed up and took a job from some drug cartel owner/gang leader and ended up taking his wallet after he fell asleep. It ended up having a ton of cash, and of course I took it. I guess these guys really didn’t like losing a little bit of money and wanted to ‘punish’ me. And I don't think they meant in the kinky way. Rich assholes.

* * *

So here I am. 

Lying on the dirty ground, who knows how far from my cabin. The goonies are probably ripping my house to shreds. Lucky me I hid my valuables in a stump in the forest near my home, something my dads taught me. 

But that was the least of my concerns. 

That siren, that fucking siren.

Why did I play that fucking Siren Head game? I’m such a pussy. 


	2. Nothing From Those Markiplier Videos Prepared Me For This

“Country roads… take me home… to the place… I belong…”

It kept going through my head. Over and over and over and over and over again and again. That stupid damn song. I love it. I hate it. Stop. Yes. No, keep going. My head hurt.

Sirens.

I tried to sit up, but my ribs protested against it. Where's the rain? Why is it dark? Was it a dream? No. I hurt. 

Sirens. What was that siren?

Loud footsteps started to come towards me. I couldn’t see who it was, but I felt the power of those feet. The sound. The ground is moving. I backed up, but my back hit a wall. Am I in a cave? A ravine? I looked up and saw the dark grey sky and trees. A ravine. A huge one, well, to a human.

He then appeared. 

“Country roads…” I outstretched my arms to protect myself.

“Take me home” I sat up.

“To the place where I belong,” No comfort in those words I hummed to myself. I’m a crazy bastard. I’m about to die to an urban legend and I’m singing a stupid song.

A long, skeletal body appeared, at least 40 feet. It looked like one of those mummies in the Nature and Science Museum in Denver, but it was even worse. Malnutrition, eh?

That face, if one can call it a face. More like a head, but not even that. Two cone shaped sirens on a long pole of flesh and god knows what. My head started to hurt.

But I felt at peace. I’m going to die. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m-

A boney hand then picked me up gently, as if I were a wounded animal. The creature was bent down, seeming to look at me with no eyes to be seen. 

“Are you going to… eat me?” I asked, shaking harder as the creature stood up with me in it’s hand.

Then it did the unimaginable.

You see, the Siren Head urban legend pages all over the internet say the same thing. The siren head plays various noises over it’s sirens, mostly siren noises, radio fuzz, etc. Nothing about it communicating.

* * *

“No eat.”

What. 

That thing just, spoke? To me? Responded to me? This can’t be real. 


	3. Oh What Will you Do?

I sat there, in that five foot bony as a corpse hand, wondering if I was drugged. The most I’ve ever done was mushrooms, and that turned out to be a scary experience. But now, everything felt slow and woozy, as if I were on a quiet snowy hike by myself. Quiet, with the only my heartbeat punctuating the silence. But there was no snow, no silent hike, and my heartbeat was more like radio static in my ears. 

And there was fucking Siren Head in front of me. Well, from what I could tell. Two rusty sirens on a long pole of wood, metal, and flesh. Corpse like, mummified body, and those teeth poking out of his mouth- sirens? 

“What the absolute fuck.” That’s all I was able to say. Well, more like squeak out. Like a mouse, or a hamster. Do hamsters squeak? Why do I think of such things?

Well, anyways, back to the tale.

“I say. No eat. Did you get that?” Why the hell did that stack of bones and pvc piping sound like a radio announcer?

“I- yes.” I gulped, feeling weird about this whole situation.

“Are you ok?” radio static and a 20’s radio announcer voice seems too weird to my ears. I’m not ok. Nothing is ok. My life is not ok. This isn’t ok.

“Yes.” I betrayed my own thoughts. What’s this monster going to do if I say no? Tell my friends and family? I have no friends and family. All my fault though. 

“You were being pursued,” The creature lifted me closer to his head, sirens? As if he were going to eat me alive or listen to me better. Both seem pretty plausible in this situation.

“Uh, no, I was just going on an evening stroll.” Sure, tot’s.

“No.” That simple ‘no’ from that creature left a lump in my throat and a shutter down my back. He was surely going to vore me now. 

“Fine. I was being pursued.”

“Correct”

“And… I was shot?”

“Yes. Seen that and rescue you.” I just noticed that his voice sounded like five other peoples voices mashed together to make sentences. His victims? I’d rather not ask.

“Uh, thank you?” That’s all I could muster.

“Your injuries need to be dealt with.” The giant 50 foot creature stood up in one fell swoop, still holding me. I lapsed into dizziness, and when my vision cleared I saw that I was high among the trees. Suddenly the siren headed creature began to walk, artfully edging trees and following the main road to town. What the hell is he going to do?

A short time later I was laid in front of the town hospital by a gentle, but strange looking hand, which caused the nurse that was standing outside having a smoke scream with fear and pass out. I laid there on the concrete by hospital front doors, watching the Siren Head disappear int the night as a bunch of medical staff came running out to tend to me and the passed out nurse. 

What the hell would I tell them?


	4. Vaporwave Dreaming

It was just a fever dream. It was just a fever dream. It was just a fever dream. I was hallucinating. I was imagining things. It was just the blood loss getting to me. I didn’t see Siren Head. He didn’t speak to me. It was all just my wild imagination. 

Was it?

I woke up a few days later in a hospital room, bandages on my arm that got shot and IVs all around me dripping clear fluids into the veins. My head felt like a thousand pounds. Nausea filled my stomach, and I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. I frantically turned my head around, looking for something I could throw up into in that clean white hospital room. I quickly located a nurse button near my bed and pressed it frantically, biting back the acidic tang of stomach acid. 

A nurse finally showed up, holding a vomit bag. I quickly took it from her and expelled my stomach contents in one painful woosh. 

“Were... what… what happened…” Those were my first words in days. They were so quiet the sounds of rain falling outside drowned them out. 

“What’s your name?” That’s all the nurse said. A concussion test? 

“Matthew Herbert, but you could call me Matt,” I smiled to myself, “or dumbass.”

“Ok,” The nurse wrote down something on her notepad, “age?”

“28.”

“Year?” 

“2034.”

“The President?”

“Ok- can you please just tell me what’s going on?” I was getting a little more frantic. I was thinking clearer, but I still wanted to know what went on.

“You came in pretty battered with a gunshot wound in your arm and a few broken ribs.” The nurse explained, pretty nonchalant. “The police found your attackers, but that’s all we know.”

“Oh, good.” I sighed, looking out the window in my room. Rain was pouring down, dripping down the window panes. The vibes seemed a bit vaporwave-like, which are my favorite vibes. I felt a little calmer. But I still had more questions.

“Who dropped me off here?”

“We don’t know.” the nurse curtly nodded her head, “one nurse claimed a monster, or drug addict dropped you off in front of the hospital, but it was dark and she was a little hysterical.” 

Before I could say what happened a doctor of some sort walked into the room. He passed by the nurse and stood right by the edge of my bed. 

“How are you feeling Mr. Herbert?” 

“I’m feeling like a truck ran over me, but overall fine.” 

“May I introduce myself. I’m Dr. Barnaby. I’m your trauma physician.”

“Nice.” That’s all I could say. My brain was somewhere else in the vaporwave skies and Trevor Henderson dreams. I didn’t hear much of what he said, minus something about permanent plates and screws in my arm and something about me being released in a few days.

I was just vaporwave dreaming.

**Author's Note:**

> Siren Head isn't mine.  
> Siren Head IS NOT an SCP.  
> Prostitution is not a good way of life, at least to me. I do not promote it, or drug abuse, or gang stuffs.


End file.
